• Let me begin with a question
    A question you'll hear once, and never hear the same again
    A compication that circles from every dawn to dawn
    The recognition of the fragilisation
    'Tis the question of life
    The invalidity of the validity of the situation

    Everything is made of something
    Something is made of eveything
    Nothing is something
    Something is nothing
    Therefore everything is nothing

    Hold on.

    As I gently lift yet another...life,
    And deliver it to a place even I don't know,
    Even I, the true king of the world
    Healer of hope, healer of strife

    Cannot I understand this?
    I cannot comtemplate that word...
    My mind wrecks to try and explain that to me
    Death is life, and life is death
    To me hope and strife
    Are one and the same

    The question cannot, it seems
    Exist unless it is a complication
    Unless it's a recognition of the fragilisation
    A validity that is only valid when invalid

    Perhaps